


This and That

by huntersandangels



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 14:22:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4023148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huntersandangels/pseuds/huntersandangels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of tumblr prompts/ficlets (cross-posting here for archiving purposes mostly)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **prompt** : Kaner being kind of new at bar-tending and Jonny walking in and ordering the most ridiculous drinks he can think of so he can take longer watching Kaner making them & Patrick being astonished by the sheer number of drinks Jonny can order without getting drunk. Kaner remembering his party days saying "I have to cut you off. I get it; drowning your sorrows in alcohol seems like a great plan but it never works out" and Jonny laughing and asking him to drink with him so he doesn't have to finish them himself.
> 
> Bartender!AU [x](http://oflovesandlikes.tumblr.com/post/88308400054)

Patrick swears Jonny is getting tips from the internet on ‘how to aggravate your bartender’.

“Can I have a lemon drop, please?” he orders so innocently like he isn’t the bane of Pat’s existence and as sweetly as the damn sugar that’s gonna make Pat’s hands so sticky he won’t be able to touch anything without a quick trip to the restroom.

Patrick gives him what he thinks is a murderous glare but he doesn’t think he has it in him to pass the message on.

“Really?” he asks, judgment pouring out in waves.

Jonny raises his eyebrows “Unless it’s something you don’t know how to make…in that case I’ll have a Manhattan; Canadian whiskey please, on the rocks with a cherry… and add some Cointreau  as well”

Patrick just stares at him dumbfound and he’s about to protest but he reconsiders, afraid that the next order jonny comes up with is more complicated and time consuming that the other two.

“On second thought” Jonny adds before Patrick has a chance to even open his mouth “make them both. I quite like to get drunk tonight” and Jonny’s determined voice leaves Patrick with no choice but make the damn drinks because this is not the night he gets fired. He needs the money, bills have been pilling up in his desk and his bank account is sadder that his love life these days.

He proceeds making the Manhattan because it’s the safer choice. He doesn’t look at Jonny through the process but he can feel his eyes watching his every move.

When he finishes, he hands Jonny the drink, which he accepts with just a nod. Patrick serves a couple of beers to the boys in the corner of the bar and a kamikaze for the brunette girl who keeps tapping her fingers on the bar,which drives him crazy, and returns to task.

When the lemon drop is ready and hands it to Jonny with a napkin wrapped around the hold, Jonny has a smug look on his face that Patrick vows to wipe out. He slowly raises his fingers to his lips and licks the sugar off of them, not breaking eye contact with Jonny, even once.

Jonny chokes on his drink and spills half his ship on the bar and Patrick doesn’t even care that he has to clean it afterwards. The flush on Jonny’s face is reward enough. He turns his back, calls for Brandon to take his place and goes to the restroom to properly clean his hands.

When he returns, Jonny has regained his composure. He’s half way through his drink and Pat thinks that yes, he does have a plan to get drunk. Sweet and fruity drinks threaten to leave you with a hangover, especially when you’re mixing them together.

“May i have a mojito next, please?” Jonny asks and he’s way too polite for Patrick to tell him to fuck off.

He just sighs and starts to gather the ingredients. mashing the fresh mint takes time and if Pat squeezes a little too hard it’s not that he’s thinking he's bashing Jonny’s scull. That would be unprofessional, and borderline psychotic.

Patrick has just added the lime juice and sugar and he’s about to shake the mojito when he hears Jonny clearing his throat.

“When you’re finished with that, may I have an angry bleeding minnow farmer, please?”

Patrick blinks, confused “Is that a drink or are you into some kind of weird S&M shit and you’re asking me to be your pimp? Because let me tell you something man, I may be a little bit kinky but i don’t swing that way”

Jonny laughs “Good to know! But not. It’s a drink. I had it last summer in Hawaii" 

"Seriously?" 

"Yes” Jonny deadpans

“Sorry. Never heard of it”

“How about a bloody mary?” Jonny says instead “and FYI no, I’m not into gore. I just like the taste”

Patrick smiles, one dimple popping up, clearly amused “That I can do! But I think I have to cut you off. I get it! Drowning your sorrows in alcohol seems like a great plan but it never works out. Trust me. I speak from experience!”

Jonny just laughs “You can always join me. It’s rather sad drinking alone anyway”

“Sorry, no can do. I’m still on the clock and my boss wouldn’t appreciate it”

Jonny’s face falls for a second and if Patrick hasn’t been paying such close attention he might have missed it.

“Fair enough. Let’s get it from the top then. I’ll have another Manhattan, please”

“How about I get you a glass of water and a soda to keep you busy for the next hour?" 

Jonny’s about to protest but he catches the last bit. He checks at his watch and nods. "Are you gonna join me then?”

“Yes” Pat says with flushed cheeks and if anyone asks it’s because it’s hot in there and he’s been running up and down the bar for the duration of that evening. “One drink, though. And you’ll get another soda. Or water. It’s important to stay hydrated, you know.”

“I know” Jonny says and this time he gives Pat a fond smile.

Jonny waits patiently for the next hour, fumbling with his phone while watching Patrick work. He’s checking the sports news on his phone, which is never a good idea and he’s itching for another drink just about now when he feels Pat looming over him.

“OK, what will it be? water or soda?” Patrick asks with a grin.

Jonny pouts “Water, I guess”

Pat smiles, wide and all dimples “good choice”

As he turns to serve him, jonny catches his wrist. Pat turns around startled. Jonny doesn’t let go, even if he now has Pat’s attention. He just runs smooth circles along his wrists.

“Have a rum and cream. I’m quite fond of sweet and mint" 

Pat swallows with difficulty "I never said I’d share my drink. You’re cut off buddy, remember?”

Jonny gives him a wolfish grin “Never said I’d drink it. Kind of hoping I could taste it actually”

And this time, the flush on Patrick’s cheeks has everything to do with Jonny’s implications. He coughs awkwardly and tries to detach himself from Jonny “Kind of need my hand to make that. You might want to let go”

Jonny squeezes his wrist lightly “I might not, though…Pretty sure I don’t actually”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **prompt** : Kaner collapses
> 
>  
> 
> [x](http://oflovesandlikes.tumblr.com/post/89921187249)

 

Patrick’s eyes start to blur as soon as he touches the ice. For a moment he thinks that sweat is dripping on them, blocking his view but he also feels a numbness on his limps and his head is spinning.

He doesn’t know what’s going on; the only thing he knows is that he has an uncontrollable urge to surrender himself to the sweet haze. Then everything goes dark.

He comes to disoriented, after what seems to him like an eternity, head still spinning like being woken with a huge hangover before your body is ready to face the day.

He’s surrounded by people, whose faces can’t quite make out yet but can clearly hear Jonny repeatedly calling his name. He understands that his helmet had been removed and someone is checking his pulse. 

“Patrick can you hear me?” Harper, the team physician, asks

“Yeah, yeah, what happened?” he chokes out.

“We thought we lost you there for a sec. It seems you just fainted. How are you feeling.”

“A little dizzy still” Pat replies trying to force himself to acknowledge the feelings so he can articulate them properly “a little sleepy as well”

“Ok, ok that’s good” Harper continues “can you slowly sit up for me?”

“Yeah, sure” Patrick says but tries to get up on one go.

There’s a growl heard somewhere near his ear “slowly, Kaner” and Patrick would have recognized Jonny’s voice anywhere. 

“I’m fine, Jonny” he replies but it comes out weak, fooling no one, including himself.

Jonny seems ready to protest but Sharpy pushes him lightly aside and wraps Patrick’s arm with both hands while Harper does the same on his other side. They maneuver him towards the dressing room and Sharpy gives him a tender pat on the back before he turns and leaves.

Patrick can swear he could feel Jonny’s eyes following him all the way.

                              ____________________

He goes through the normal routine; he gets checked up, he has his pressure measured, is forced to drink a whole Gatorade bottle (the yellow one that he hates, ew!) and has his blood drawn. He feels lucky to be on home ice; it makes the whole process easier.

He tries not to think too much; in all honesty the only thing he wants to do is sleep but he’s not allowed, not yet.

There’s a commotion outside the door and he can clearly hear Seabs calling out for Jonny which means the period is over. He sits upright and watches as Jonny talks quietly with Harper. The frown on Jonny’s face is followed by the vain in his forehead popping up which Patrick knows it can only mean trouble for him.

Jonny grabs something from the PTA and marches towards Kaner. Seabs follows suit. Patrick would have expected Sharpy or Duncs there, since they have the A and all, but has the feeling that they sent Seabs to keep Jonny in place if needed. 

“Drink this” Jonny commands as he shoves a juice box in Patrick’s face.

Patrick doesn’t even think of resisting, even if he wanted to he’s too weak to protest. He doesn’t want to though. He has been in similar situations before. This is Jonny’s ‘you’re a fucking moron but I still worry about you’ attitude. He just doesn’t know what he did this time. 

He drinks the juice and makes an annoying slurp at the end, following it by a burp as he removes the straw away. He’s nothing but classy!

He can somehow feel Jonny trying to restrain himself from smacking him upside the head and tries to think of what he could have possible done to aggravate him.

“Moron” is what comes out of Jonny’s mouth & Patrick would lie if he said it doesn’t hurt. “How could you be this stupid?” Jonny continues. 

He opens his mouth to ask what he did to deserve this but Jonny clearly isn’t finished. “Dehydration Patrick! Dehydration! What are you, five? Don’t you know better?” Jonny is shouting now.

“Hey, that’s enough” Seabs exclaims and tries to pry Jonny away.

“Let go of me” Jonny snarls and surprisingly Seabs backs down. 

Patrick sinks down making himself look smaller in the process “I’m sorry” he mumbles quietly because what can he say really? He wasn’t even aware that he hadn’t taken enough fluids.

Jonny looks at him weirdly for a second before he lets out a sigh and rubs his fingers between his eyes. “Can I have a moment, please?” he asks Seabs, the ever polite Canadian that he is.

Seabs look at Patrick and Pat gives him a reassuring smile and a small nod. He loves how they all have each others backs.

Jonny waits for Seabs to leave and plops himself next to him. He reluctantly raises his hand to touch Pat, afraid that it might not be welcomed. Patrick saves him the anguish and takes Jonny’s palm into his, entwining their fingers.

Jonny visibly relaxes. “I’m okay, really. Few bottles of water and a couple of Gatorades and I’ll be good as new” he says while squeezing Jonny’s hand “I’m sorry about the game” he adds.

Jonny shakes his head “You think this is about the game?” he asks clearly upset again. Good job, Pat!

Patrick shrugs. He won’t admit it but he loves it when Jonny goes all protective on him, when he lets himself loose and pampers Patrick. He loves it that Jonny  _cares_. 

“You’re so dumb” Jonny exclaims and it’s soft and fond and makes Patrick warm inside.

They’re interrupted by the PTA who comes into the room carrying more fluids for Patrick. “They need you back Jonathan” he says and Jonny nods affirmatively.

He stands up and goes for a forehead kiss but stops himself half way through, remembering that they’re not alone. He ruffles Patrick’s hair instead.

“Drink your water and stay put” he says trying to sound authoritarian and failing. “I’ll be back later” he promises quietly.

Patrick nods in agreement and gets a chance to ogle Jonny’s ass as he leaves. He’s a little sick, not dead. He drinks his water and lies down smirking as he thinks of all the ways Jonny’s gonna take care of him tonight.

 

****


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bakery!AU
> 
>  
> 
> [x](http://oflovesandlikes.tumblr.com/post/95097022354)

Patrick is overjoyed, he thinks he may be even more excited than Jessica and this is her special time so that means a lot. After his initial protests which tumbled from 'you’re too young’ to ’ he’s not good enough for you’ and from 'who does he think he is strutting in here like… whatever he’s a douche and I don’t approve’ to his final 'if he breaks your heart I’ll break his legs’, he had been involved in every step of the way.  

He pretends to hate it most of the time, grumbling he’s only doing it because her up to no good fiance would fuck it up anyway because what does this moron even know other than stealing people’s baby sisters away from their family but deep down he actually loves it.

He had an embarrassing moment tearing up at the flower shop but choked it up to allergies and he still doesn’t know how he got away with trying to convince their pastor to talk some sense into his sister but he made up for it by siding with Jessica on her wedding dress choices. It was pretty hilarious, four women and Patrick arguing over dresses like they were in an episode of 'Say yes to the dress’.

Today, it’s probably his favorite day of all. They are going cake-tasting. He hates that he has to do the scrapping while the asshole will do the final tastings and decide what they’re having but he savors the time he has with his sister and hey, cake!

His enthusiasm subsides as he walks in the bakery and sees rows and rows of desserts and cakes but no visible trace of chocolate in any of them.

“What the hell” he tries to whisper at Jessica but it comes out like a slightly loud squeal.

Jessica frowns “Behave” she warns as she walks up to the girl behind the counter to verify her appointment.

Patrick looks around, disgust probably clear in his face. Bay leaf pound cake is the first tag he reads and he has no idea what the hell that is, buttermilk berry cake comes next and Patrick tries hard not to gag something he can barely contain when he’s faced with carrot cake and oatmeal muffins. What kind of health freak nutjob owns this piece of crap of a place! He doesn’t know much about baking but anything that doesn’t include chocolate and starts with the word organic is filled in the pretentious health food category in his mind.

He gets ushered by Jessica into a room and takes a seat. The girl offers them tea and he can’t help how his nose scrunches at the sound. Jessica elbows him in the rib quite discreetly; she had years of practice trying to avoid getting caught by their mom.

“No thank you” he replies trying for polite but it’s a bit snappy.

“We have decaf coffee if that’s more to your taste” the girl offers.

Patrick sighs. He doesn’t want a half-ass coffee cop out “Water will be just fine, thank you”. He crosses his fingers hoping they won’t bring him the sparkling type. 

“You’re being a jerk” Jessica says

“I’m being a what? seriously? you promised me cake Jess, not this… this abominable monstrosities.”

“Shut up! I swear if you ruin this for me I’m disowning you. Do you know how many strings I pulled to get an appointment here?”

“Really? You had to beg? For this? Jess, you don’t even like these things. You devour chocolate chip cupcakes like they’re air and you need to breathe! You don’t do wheat and seeds for fuck’s sake! you’re not a bird!”

“It’s called compromising! You’d know it if you ever did the committing relationship thing. That’s why we’re here. Pick some flavors we’ll all enjoy”

“And by all you mean you and that motherf-”

That earns Patrick another elbow on the ribs. This day is so not going how he planned.

 "If you insist on being a dick then you better leave now!“

That threat settles it for Patrick. He pouts just so he can show his objection but he slumps down on the chair in clear defeat. 

The first cake they try is a kind of moist-y thing with spiced carrots and pistachio and Patrick can’t help but wonder what the hell is a spiced carrot and he tries not to snort when the girl gleefully informs them that the carrots are organic and so are the spices. 

He takes a bite and tries hard to swallow it and not just spit it out. He doesn’t say anything because he’s already walking on thin ice. He survives the sticky one with organic Chinese stem ginger and spices but he can’t help the sour expression he gets when they’re offered the zingy lemon sponge with- what a shocker!- fresh organic lemon zest and juice.

He’s trying really hard and he hums agreeably when Jessica deems them heavenly.

"These are excellent! Look at what we’ve been missing being so hang up on chocolate!”

That’s where he draws the line! Nothing is better than chocolate “I wouldn’t go that far” he offers because the alternative 'this is hideous’ and the more dramatic 'what did I ever do to deserve this torture’ won’t sit very well with his sister.

He loses it a bit later when the girl announces the next piece as 'maple buttermilk cake’

“Oh hell, no!” he practically screams “I’ve eaten these god awful things and somehow managed to keep them down without hurling all over this table but there’s no way in hell I’m eating anything that contains maple syrup. What the hell are we, Canadians?” the last word sounded just as offensive as Pat meant it to be.

Jessica is ready to throw him out, it’s written all over her face but she doesn’t get a chance.

“I am” a steady, calm but firm voice says just behind his back. The hair in Pat’s nape stand attention. There’s nothing even remotely resembling feelings in that monotone but for some reason it makes Patrick’s dick jump. 

He doesn’t get a chance to turn his head towards the voice. There’s an extended hand and an exchanged handshake with Jessica “Goodmorning. I’m Jonathan Toews and I’ll be the one in charge of your cake. It’s a pleasure to meet you, miss.”

“Oh, my! You’re the owner!” Jessica screeches 

There’s a soft chuckle “Guilty as charged! I’m also the baker! At your service”

Patrick doesn’t have to look to see that the dude just bowed! Bowed for fuck’s sake. What a pretentious dick!

“Wow, hold your horses cowboy! You do know she’s getting married, right?”

“Patrick” Jessica hisses

The guy just huffs indignantly  “I’m well aware, mister…”

“Kane” Jessica supplies “he’s my brother. Don’t mind him we just let him out of the barn”

“Hey” Patrick protests and he turns finally to face the voice. 

He meets a scolding face and big brown eyes that remind Patrick of chocolate drops “well, hello there, cupcake” he leers. Clearly his brain to mouth filter has been broken but he doesn’t care one bit because tall, dark and handsome’s lip twitch upright ever so slightly.

Jessica is horrified “Oh my god! please excuse him. He’s a little touched in the head”

“Oh, I do like being touched there!” Patrick lets slip out! Seriously, what the hell is wrong with him. He tenses for a second because he knows that not everyone is accepting and the last thing he needs it to horrify his sister’s baker. He thinks he might be uninvited to the wedding; possibly end up dead as well.

What he sees in Jonathan’s eyes is just a sparkle of amusement though even as he tries to hurriedly school his features.

“How about my fist touch your face? Would you like that?” Jessica threatens and it’s a low mumble but Patrick takes it very seriously.

He clears his throat “I apologize” he offers sheepishly.

“Apology accepted” Jonathan replies and is that mirth that Patrick detects on his tight lips that curve slightly upright?

“I’d blame it on the coffee but you’d don’t actually have any” he says and what the hell? He doesn’t usually have a habit of sticking his foot in his mouth.

“I guess this is my turn to apologize” Jonathan offers while Jessica turns red from both anger and embarrassment Patrick guesses. He has to mark this day as the one he lost his middle sister due to his own stupidity. He guesses being a fuck up is a common occurrence but will still try to figure a way to blame it on someone else. “This place is very organic-oriented and pure caffeine is not something our clients ask for. We can order you one if you’d like" 

Jonathan being all kind and polite makes Patrick feel like a dick. "That won’t be necessary, thank you. And I am really sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

Jonathan gives him a warm smile “No offense taken, I assure you”

“In that case, em…do you have anything in here that includes chocolate in the ingredients?” he asks and hoped he’s not overstepping again.

Jessica groans “Patrick, enough! We already talked about it”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t agree with it, did I?”

“Well, this isn’t your wedding so suck it up!”

Jonathan coughs “If I may interject… we do have several cakes that include organic chocolate but it wasn’t checked in your list that’s why I’ve excluded them. I can have something for you next time”

“There’s organic chocolate?” Patrick asks nauseatingly as Jessica says “That won’t be necessary, thank you” at the same time.

Jonathan chuckles “I don’t think organic means what you think it does”

Patrick doesn’t usually blush but he can feel his face heat up. Making a fool of himself in front of weirdly attractive men had never been his life goal but he seems to have mastered the craft.

Jonathan gets called away and that spares Patrick any further embarrassment. He greets them goodbye politely and offers his services to Jessica once again. Patrick thinks his hand lingered just a tad longer than necessary when he offered a handshake to him but he might have imagined it.

“I’m going up to the desk to make another appointment- one you’re not invited to by the way. Don’t move, don’t speak, don’t even breathe you hear me? I’ll deal with you when we get home” her tone is harsh but she says it oh so calmly and Patrick knows he’s in deep shit so he refrains from saying’ aye aye captain’ and mock-saluting and goes for a simple, safe nod.

He sits uneasily for a bit and mentally goes over the list. There’s nowhere in there that says 'don’t look’ so he goes around searching the place with his eyes looking for Jonathan. Technically, it doesn’t fall under the 'don’t move’ category so he’s safe he thinks…possibly…maybe.

His mind screams at him that he and Jonathan probably have nothing in common since he seems the type who has his very own vegetable garden and dresses in clothes made of linen or something but his dick doesn’t seem connected because it has a mind of its own and it currently argues with his upstairs head.

No one ever accused Patrick of thinking too much anyway. He’s one of those people who give in to their primal instincts and he has a hell of a time doing so. Unfortunately, Jonathan is nowhere to be found and Patrick is very disappointed.

The girl who served them approaches “This is for you” she says simply leaving something at the table. She leaves immediately and Patrick is utterly relieved because what lies in front of him is probably some kind of an organic version of a Hershey’s kisses but instead of the brand name the tag has a phone number scribbled to it.

Patrick finds himself smiling dopey-ly and his cheeks radiate raging heat.

He peals the folding carefully and shoves the paper in his pocket, the little one that his jeans have, the one it’s always too small and tight to use but now it’s seems the safest place.

He studies the little thing carefully debating whether to eat it or not. He tries to feel the texture but his fingers come out wet and there’s a dent in the design. It’s still somewhat hot which means it had been made recently.

Patrick beams. Jonathan made it for him and probably tried to freeze it as best as he could to make it stay in shape long enough for Patrick to get it.

He folds it up again and lets it rest but he does lick the small amount of chocolate sticking on his finger. He must admit it’s not half bad but he’s not thrilled by it either. He guesses it’s an acquired taste.

He supposes he might learn to appreciate it if the taste comes directly from Jonathan’s mouth or various other parts of him, Patrick is not that picky.He snickers to himself and tucks the little drop in his pocket.

Maybe he just needs to give this organic thing a try.

****

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **prompt** : whydisignuponthisgodforsakensite: Kane/Toews 4. “Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?”
> 
>  
> 
> [ x ](http://oflovesandlikes.tumblr.com/post/119869334884)

Multiple OT’s are taking a toll on everyone’s body and no matter how much they soak their muscles the lingering effect is still there, burning and prickling and not even the buzzing feeling of happiness from the win is enough to consider it worthwhile at this point.

Jonny is mentally digging himself into a stupor, searching for a solution that would work on the ice; one that would allow them to clear the game in 3 periods (or less if it was possible) although he knows that no matter what strategy he comes up with, whatever plays he draws and lines he mixes up there’s always that imponderable factor no one can control no matter how much will and effort they put in.

Patrick has buried himself in his papers as well, a quiet present by his side that’s oddly comforting. Jonny knows that he’s not alone out there on the ice, but sometimes it feels like he carries the weight of the team on his shoulders outside of it. 

It’s unfair, to his A’s and the rest of the team, because he’s not the only one that works hard but sometimes the C on his chest feels heavy and Jonny himself feels too small to carry it. He blames no one but himself and that seriousness that dictates his life since he was five and determined to know everything there is about dinosaurs and the reason they had to disappear to make room for mankind.

Patrick understands without Jonny even having to use his words and he feels so grateful. Words fail him when they do not revolve around hockey but Patrick seems to always know. He also knows that when Jonny says he’s not up for company what he means is he doesn’t have the strength to deal with noise and chatter but that doesn’t mean that Patrick doesn’t have an open invitation to come hang in his room.

Patrick, despite what everyone thinks, is quiet and although his personality can fill a room just by entering it, winning anyone over just with a dimpled smile, he has an uncanny way of making himself invisible. In a large crowd it makes Jonny’s heart ache, Patrick should never go unnoticed, but in the confinement of their rooms is just a constant reminder that Jonny is not alone while still having his own space.

He doesn’t know how to explain it in words; he doesn’t think others can understand. He’s not sure he finds a logical explanation for himself either but he gave up his quest to understanding this thing between them long ago. To be honest, he doesn’t care about the reasons, as long as Patrick is there.

To be  _really_  honest, he knows damn well why…it’s because he fell in love with him even before he even knew what falling in love meant. To everyone else though, he claims that Patrick had Stockholmed him after the years they spent rooming together.

He still believes they buy it. He wills himself to accept that explanation because his dreams and wishes are dangerous; the stakes are high and the price is something he doesn’t know he can handle to pay.

Nights like tonight, he can’t help but wonder exactly how right Patrick can read him. There were no words exchanged, no plans made but they did end up on Jonny’s room, each one occupying a side of Jonny’s bed and working quietly next to each other. They pass notes in silence; they correct or add and exchange them back to do it all over again.

Jonny doesn’t really know how to express his gratitude. Between his headache and the constant throbbing of his thigh he’s not sure he’d survive anything louder than a whisper.

He’s not sure if he wants to rub more between his eyes or his leg to calm the pain. He should probably have avoided leaping at Seabs but he was so taken by the moment he had no mind for the consequences.

“Leg still bugging you?” Patrick asks quietly; he sounds tired and drained, just as much as Jonny feels.

“Yeah” he admits. It’s no use lying to Patrick. He did it once with the concussion and the aftermath was not pretty; and he doesn’t even mean crashing into that pole.

“Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?” Patrick offers timidly.

Every nerve in Jonny’s body screams “yes”, every bit but his brain that says that prolonged contact with Pat’s hand would at the least leave him embarrassed.

“No, that’s ok” he wills himself to decline “but thank you” he adds.

Patrick huffs loudly “Oh, Christ, Jonny, stop being a fucking martyr. It’s Ok to let someone take care of you once in a while”

He knows Patrick doesn’t mean it the way it sounds in his ears, although Jonny would have no objections if that was the case.

“Chris already did, Kaner. Want to tell him he’s not good at his job?”

Patrick chuckles “No one sane can deny his hands are a gift from God, man, but clearly for that to work someone must not be a stubborn asshole who refuses to follow the physicians orders”

Jonny doesn’t have an answer to that but he’s not about to let Patrick win an argument. “I’m fine” he says snappily, mostly angry at himself for being unable to come up with an excuse that would turn this whole thing in his favour.

Patrick snorts and makes his way into the bathroom, saying nothing in return.

Jonny stands there  befuddled. Has he actually won an argument that easily?

“Fuck you!” Patrick screams as he re-emerges with Jonny’s massage wax container in his hand “you’re such an asshole for making fun of me when you have one of your own. Man, that’s even low for you” he says as he shoves the “Songbird” massage wax in Jonny’s face.

Jonny turns bright red; not because he feels sorry for chiming in when the others made fun of Pat for his pretentious ‘soccer’ massage wax but because he will have to explain why of all the products he has, he chooses to carry that one with him.

“Well, someone did inform me it was used in two World Cups and one Olympics” he tries to deflect.

“Damn straight! That thing is a miracle, even though the British market it. I’m fairly certain there was some kind of industrial espionage involved because I’m sure that kind of wonder should have come from us” ‘Patrick Captain America’ declares.

It’s Jonny’s turn to huff “Yeah, because if it’s not American it can’t work, right?”

Patrick opens his mouth to argue but Jonny raises his brow cautioning him on his answer. They’ve had that debate a million times and more often than not it led them to a huge argument none of them had the strength to handle at this point.

“Whatever” Patrick shrugs “That’s not the point. The point is, you have one. Why?”

“To massage my body parts?” the ‘duh’ is heavily implied.

“Fuck off. Why this one, dude. You haven’t even tried it. Why buy the damn thing?”

Jonny knows Pat won’t stop until he gets an answer, he can be annoying like that, so he takes a deep breath and get it out “Your mom bought it for me”

“Dude, fuck you, this is not the time for mom jokes”

Jonny feels the pink that tints his ears disappear and a chuckle escape him “Really, your mom bought it for me…It…” he suddenly feels nervous again and rubs his neck with his palm “It was a birthday gift, OK? She sent some wax and oils and some lip balm I’m pretty sure your sisters picked out”

Patrick is left abashed; slacked jaw, mouth hanging open and eyes wide. He kind of looks like a cartoon but because Jonny’s life is so cruel he still finds it adorkably attractive “Why the fuck does my mom sends you gifts?” 

“My mom sends you gifts every year, as well” Jonny points out

“Yeah, but that’s ‘cause I’m awesome and your mom loves me”

“Seems your mom thinks I’m awesome, too since she’s been doing it every year as well”

Patrick’s eyes widen even more “Shut up! No she doesn’t! I would have known”

Jonny starts feeling a little offended to be honest. He’s not sure why Patrick is so bothered by it “Just Christmas and birthday” Jonny says self consciously now “emm… and a care package when I was out with concussion…but if it bothers you that much…” his voice sounds small in his ears and he hates that.

“She…you…I…” Patrick is left bewildered, Jonny can tell. He can also tell the minute Jonny’s last words register to him because his cheeks flash and he looks sheepish “It doesn’t bother me man” he sighs and shrugs “I just had no clue, it caught me off guard”

“I’m sure she sends gifts to the other guys, as well, so you can stop feeling betrayed. It’s not like I’m special or anything” Jonny’s projecting at this point. It’s what he tells himself every time he receives a package from Donna Kane. 

“Yeah, no…I don’t think she does” Patrick mutters and the moment Jonny looks up to get a clarification is the moment a giant wall goes up and Patrick closes himself off to the world.

“Look, I…it’s getting late. I’ll go crash ‘cause I’m beat” he fumbles with the container awkwardly until he finally sets it beside Jonny “Use it, it’s…pretty good. Tell me when it’s all used. I’ll have her order you a new one”

He says it all in one go, eyes never meeting Jonny’s and he bolts before Jonny can even protest.    

Jonny is more confused than he has been in his entire life and his cry of “Pat” comes way too late. He’s left in an empty room, with a cylinder massage wax container and enough questions to keep him up all night.

“What the fuck did just happen?” 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> patrick-kanes-mouthguard asked: 1988 prompt: "I didn't want to tell my friend who was my real date from last night because he turned out to be an asshole so i just pointed at a random stranger (you) but now they're storming over to interrogate you and you're playing along??? Okay!"
> 
> [x](http://oflovesandlikes.tumblr.com/post/159924072844)

 

“Are you really sure?” Sharpy asks him for the 11th time and it was endearing and sweet the first couple but it’s now grating on Patrick’s nerves.”Like, really?”

Patrick can’t help the eye roll. “For fuck’s sake Sharpy I already told you. Yes, I’m sure. One hundred percent.”

“But- we don’t know him…” Sharpy whines. In Sharpy speech that means Sharpy himself hasn’t seen him and hasn’t given his approval.

“He’s perfectly fine, Sharpy, shut up. He’s nice and hot and he’s really into me,ok?” 

“Why?” Sharpy asks because he is a fucking tool. 

“Fuck off! I’m a great catch!”

“Just because your mom told you that…”

Patrick looks him dead in the eyes with the most self-satisfying smirk he can muster. “Well, your mom said the same thing.”

Sharpy opens his mouth to retort but closes it immediately, full knowing he was beaten. “Fine,” he grumbles, “but don’t come crying to me when he ends up being an asshole.”

“I’ll just come gloating then, because I’m gonna land myself the hottest, most awesome boyfriend, Just wait.”

 

 

————————————————————– 

 

 

In retrospect, he should have kept his big mouth shut. His mom had told him it’d get him in trouble one day. But did he listen? NO.

That’s how he finds himself the next day, having brunch and trying to avoid answering Sharpy’s questions about his date. Because what can he really say? That the guy was an entitled, rude, self absorbed douche that forced Patrick to use the fake call app on his phone?

“So I was right, wasn’t I?” Sharpy asks smugly.

“What? No!” His eyes wander around because he is a crappy liar but he is not about to give his friend the satisfaction.

“Then why are you not answering any of my questions?” Sharpy is naturally suspicious, probably because he himself is up to no good.

“Everything was great, Sharpy. I already told you. We had a great time. He even bought me ice cream down the pier.” That would make him a great catch since everyone knows his affinity to ice cream.

“Then why are you sitting here looking like that?” Sharpy questions again.

“Like what?”Patrick asks, gaze following the waitress on the way to serving the table in the far right.

“Like you did when you let your turtle die.” That’s a sure way to rile him up and Sharpy, the stupid jerk, knows it all too well.  “And what the fuck is so interesting over there that you can’t even look at me for a whole minute?”

“One, I didn’t  _let_ Stanley die, Ok? His passing was due to natural causes and two…”, he’s not so sure what to reply to that. Thankfully, Sharpy is too determined to chirp him to let him finish his sentence.

“Is that what they’re calling you these days?”

“Fuck off, Sharpy.”

He spaces out for a minute, intrigued by the waitress’ blushed cheeks and shy smile. He angles his head a bit to get a clearer view but his whole body freezes, apart from his heart that beats wildly in his chest, when he makes eye contact with the guy on the table.

He’s not sure why, he barely even had enough time to realise he is a dude but for some unknown, stupid reason he’s feeling like the guy is boring into the depths of his soul. Which, rude. You don’t go about drilling into people’s most private parts uninvited.

Fortunately for him, Sharpy decides for once to be helpful and knocks him out of his trance by nearly knocking him over his seat.

“Hey, I’m talking to you asshole.” 

“Yeah, yeah, sorry, I kind of… Whatever. Are we going to eat or what?”

“Not before you tell me about the guy.” Sharpy raises his voice, clearly frustrated that he is not the centre of attention.

Patrick can feel the hair on the back of his neck stand attention and he doesn’t know how but he’s one hundred percent sure that shark-eyed dude is looking at them. 

“Can you keep it down?” He hisses, glaring daggers at his friend, while feeling his ears burn. It’s a matter of minutes before his whole face flushes. He kind of really hates his pale complexion.

He lowers his gaze once more, mortified and fumbles with the cutlery, trying to be as inconspicuously as possible.

He’s aware of Sharpy babbling his mouth but he’s not really paying attention. He catches the last of the sentence.

“right?”

“Yeah.” he whispers not sure what he agreed with but not composed enough to care.

“So who is he?” Sharpy asks with such glee that’s enough to knock Patrick out of his trance.

“What? Who?”

“You know,  _the guy_.” he stresses the word like it’s supposed to mean something to Patrick. “Your date, Kaner. You said he’s here. So who. is. he?”

Patrick is sure his eyes budge out as if he were a cartoon. “What? No. Why- he’s not, ok?”

“You just said he is.” Sharpy raises his eyebrow again and Patrick really hates that. “Are you lying to me?”

Patrick wishes the floor would just open and swallow him whole. He doesn’t know why he does it. Maybe it’s because he feels cornered; being stared at from both ends with no escaping route. Maybe he’s just incredibly stupid. ”Over there.” He mumbles tilting his head to the far right.

It’s vague enough he thinks he can get away with it.

“Oh,” Sharpy exclaims in glee, making Patrick’s insides fill with dread, “Uh, not too shabby. Not as hot as me though.” says the vain asshole. “Hey, he’s looking our way.”

He feels more than sees Sharpy get off his seat. He grabs Patrick’s hand with such force that knocks him off balance. “I want to meet him. Let’s say hello.”

——————————————————————

 

Patrick’s first instinct is to flee; instead he finds himself running after Sharpy in a vain attempt to minimize the damage. 

He feels so humiliated even before his little lie is exposed. He doesn’t want to think how it’s going to be after. He’ll probably have to grovel a lot for his friend to forgive him and definitely give up entirely on ever eating in this place again. 

He’s also kind of scared of the shark-eyed guy’s judgemental look he’s sure is coming his way but he doesn’t have enough time to wonder why that would bother him.

Due to probably dumb luck, because he has the dumb part covered already, he catches Sharpy as he’s introducing himself to the guy.

“...the better Patrick”,” he hears his friend say.

As if things couldn’t get worse, he miscalculates his speed to table proximity and goes crashing into it thighs first. 

Shark Eyes is quick with his hands and catches the glass before it goes spilling everywhere. Patrick flushes an embarrassing shade of deep red. “I- Sorry.” 

The guy just stares at him, face blank. It makes Patrick even more uneasy. 

“Yeah, ‘m - Sorry to bother you,” he says grabbing Sharpy’s arm more as a life line and a little less to drag him away, “we’re leaving now, Sorry again.”

“Oh, come on, Kaner,” Sharpy whines “I didn’t even get the chance to ask him his name yet. If you’re going to date him don’t you think I should know that?”

Patrick winces and hopes that shark eyes is not some hot blooded homophob because the last thing he needs right now is a punch to the face.

“Jonathan.” A deep, grovelly voice that could only have come from shark eyes answers.

Sharpy must have taken it as an invitation because he plops himself to the empty sit near him. “So, Jonathan,”he rests his chin on his palm “I heard from our little Patrick here that your date last night was a success.”

Patrick closes his eyes, unable to face the guy. He bites his trembling bottom lip so hard it’s probably going to start bleeding soon.

“Did you now?” shark eyes -Jonathan- says, tone void of any emotion. 

Patrick braces himself. After a beat all he hears is a soft, “I thought so, too.”

That makes Patrick’s eyes open wide. He’s staring at the guy with disbelief, jaw slacked and everything. 

“Huh” Sharpy mutters at the same time as Patrick squeals an questioning “What?”

Those intense, dark eyes turn to him and once again Patrick feels like he’s being under a microscope. “It was fun, right?” Jonathan asks him,  _him_ , and Patrick thinks he’s just entered the twilight zone,

“Fun.” He says dumbly. 

“I’m a fun guy.” Jonathan deadpans, face serious, as if he’s daring Patrick to disagree.

“I-- yeah, yeah- fun, sure. Lots.” He doesn’t even know what he’s saying but Jonathan beams at him and for some weird reason it makes Patrick feel like he did something great. Which is stupid. But what else is new? It’s pretty much established by now that Patrick is both dumb and dumber all wrapped up in one. 

That’s why he finds himself involuntarily smiling back at this complete and utter, though totally hot (because Patrick may be stupid but not blind) stranger.

Sharpy clears his throat loudly and obnoxiously. “If you’re quite finished.”

If Jonathan falters even a bit Patrick doesn’t catch it. When he speaks to Sharp he’s completely composed.”Sorry,” he offers politely, “you were saying?”

That seems to appease Sharpy momentarily. When he squares his shoulders and puffs out his chest Patrick knows what’s coming. “Sharpy, no.” Patrick growls. “Let’s just go.” 

Sharpy doesn’t bulge though. He ignores him in favour of staring down at Jonathan as if he’s issuing a challenge with his eyes. “So, let’s get down to it. What are your intentions towards our little Pat here?” 

Patrick looks Jonathan’s way to plead forgiveness with his eyes but the other man’s gaze is solely focused on Sharpy. He doesn’t know much about animals but he had seen a documentary once on Animal Planet and Jonathan kind of reminds him of that tiger on alert right before an attack.

“I don’t want to sound rude, “ Jonathan says in a tone that suggest he’s going to anyway,”but how is that any of your business?”

Sharpy is the first to blink and Patrick would lie if he’d say he isn’t a little too pleased about that. His friend recovers fast though. “Tell me something, Jonathan? You have any siblings?”

The question clearly throws Jonathan off. “I- yes, a younger brother.” By the end of the sentence Jonathan is perfectly composed and alert once again.

Sharpy nods “He-” he starts tilting his head towards Patrick “went off last night to have a date with an apparently great dude. Proper excited he was, babbling about all your fine qualities. Then today, he comes here with a tale of a date right out of a rom-com but he looks like he let his pet turtle die once more.”

Patrick groans. As if this whole thing wasn’t embarrassing enough, “Then his date happens to eat at the same restaurant, yet doesn’t even come by to say hello, as if he was a total stranger. Do you understand now how this is my business?”

Jonathan glances up at him but Patrick is too much of a coward to return the look. He shuts his eyes tight, trying to keep the tears from spilling, He doesn’t think he has been more humiliated his whole life. 

Jonathan clears his throat and Patrick draws in a sharp breath waiting for the final nail on his coffin. He deserves this for being a coward. He will bear it resignedly.

“Though I find it to be bad form to spill the beans on your friend,” Jonathan says sternly, “I’m pleased that Patrick thinks highly of me. I assure you I return the sentiment from the little I have known him.”

Something unknots inside Patrick. “I also didn’t want to rudely interrupt your brunch that’s why I haven’t approached your table.” His jabs are a gift that keeps on giving. “As for the rest, I believe that we can pump the breaks on the ‘break his heart and I’ll break your face’ talk. Give us at least a couple dates.”

Patrick isn’t sure who is more shocked, him or Sharpy. His friend is looking at Jonathan calculatingly while Patrick is staring at him in awe.

Jonathan on his part looks like he has the best poker face in the entire planer. Or maybe he has had so many Botox done his face is incapable of any expression.

“Fair enough.” Sharp concedes.

Jonathan nods. “Would you mind if I had a moment alone with Patrick?”

Sharpy narrows his eyes but quickly gives up. He shrugs “Sure. You kids take your time. Our food is probably ruined by now anyway.”

He stands up and straightens his shirt. He puts his hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “I’ll be right there on our table when you’re finished.”

In Sharp speech that means “ _I have your back_ ”.

Patrick just nods affirmatively. “And for Christ’s sake sit the fuck down. Your legs must be killing you.” He says running his fingers through his hair. 

As soon as he does, Sharp takes a last quick glance and walks away.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------

No one talks for a while and normally Patrick is fine with the silence but there are words pushing violently at his mouth trying to find their way out. So he lets the dam break. “That- that was awesome!” 

That gets him a tentative smile from Jonathan but not a whole more. Patrick’s own smile falters.

Then Jonathan surprises him once more by burying his face in his palms with a loud groan. “That was terrifying.” He admits peeking at Patrick through his slightly open fingers. “Your friend is -” he pauses. He settles for “intense.”

Patrick bites the corner of his bottom lip. “Yeah, that’s - kind of my fault really. I’m -- I’ve made some really bad choices in the past,” he admits “and he kind of blames himself for not-- He really means well.” He stops himself mid-explanation. He hopes it’s enough to excuse Sharp’s behaviour without having to say exactly how much of a fuck up Patrick has been in the past. He doesn’t know why this stranger’s opinion matters to him. It just does.

“Anyway, sorry for all this.” He waves his hand around hoping it conveys that he means the whole mess. “And thank you for playing along. I don’t know why you would. My date was horrible. The guy wasn’t exactly nice and I- yes, just thanks. And sorry. Again.” He mumbles. His eyes land on Jonathan’s half-eaten plate and he feels even worse. “And sorry about your-” he gestures towards his food. “I can pay for that,”

Jonathan’s  eerie silence is deafening. He has but a second to wonder how in the hell absolutely no noise can be that, but quickly catches himself. He knows he can easily get lost in his own thoughts and the last thing he wants is to impose further on the poor dude.  “Yeah, just. I’m gonna go now. Thanks. And sorry.” He groans internally at how dumb he sounds.

Mid-way standing up from his chair Jonathan’s voice has him petrified. “You lisp when you prattle. It’s cute.”

Patrick manages to lose his footing and bang his elbow against the corner of the table. He sits back down with a curse. Jonathan chuckles.

“You making fun of me?” he asks, squinting his eyes.

Jonathan’s face does an 180 and he’s dead serious when he shakes his head. His flushed cheeks make Patrick wonder if it’s because of the admission or the laughter. The way he looks at Patrick makes him think it’s not the latter. It also makes something inside him flatter. “Oh.” he says dumbly.

Jonathan’s ears pink. “Yeah.”

“So-” Patrick is unsure of what to do next. Jonathan appears to have lost all the confidence he had while battling it out with Sharpy as well.

“Yeah, I- Thanks for covering for me. I- yeah, it was nice meeting you Jonathan I think I’ll-” 

“Jon.” Jonathan interrupts. “Jonny, if you want.” He rubs his neck nervously and Patrick finds it endearing.

“Jonny.” He tests it and likes the way it feels on his tongue.

Jonny smiles at him softly and nods. He takes a deep breath making Patrick catch his in anticipation. “I- I’m Jonny. I’m 28. I teach elementary PE and coach a pewee hockey team. I’m from Canada but I’ve been to Chicago for the last eleven years and I’m nice. I think.”

“I - what?” Patrick blinks, utterly confused.

“And apparently I’m a great date?” Jonny adds timidly. “Not that I -- Your friend said-” 

Patrick bites the inside of his cheek. He hopes he sounds more confident than he feels. “I’m Patrick.I’m 28. I’m a Sports Research Analyst, originally from Buffalo but almost 10 years in Chicago and I think you’re nice, too. You’re also the best fake date I’ve ever had.”

“Have you been in many?” Jonny asks.

“Huh?”

“Fake dates. - You said-”

Patrick chuckles. “Nah, you’re my first.”

Jonny scrunches his nose. “That’s not much of a compliment then.”

Patrick can spot a competitive nature. It’s like seeing his reflection in the mirror. He bites the bullet and fake-bravely asks. “How about a real one? I’ve been to a few good ones. Are you up for it?”

That seems to shake Jonny, even for a second. He composes himself quickly though and Patrick can’t help but admire that. Jonny smirks up at him. “Challenge accepted.”

Patrick beams. He instinctively raises his arm to fistbump in the air but luckily he catches himself at the last minute and offers it to Jonny so they can shake on it.

Jonny’s phone beeps with some kind of notification if the way he glances at the clock is anything to go by. "I have to cut this short,” he offers, standing up and throwing a few bills on the table.

“Oh, no” Patrick objects, tucking his arm safely back on his lap. trying to hide the fact that he’s a little disappointed. “I said I’d pay for that. It’s the least I can do.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jonny says from somewhere near him that is definitely not the other end of the table. He was apparently too busy protesting to notice their now close proximity. 

Even with him sitting down, Patrick could tell their height difference but up close is more evident. Enough to send a thrill down Patrick’s spine. He’s a guy with more that a few kinks, ok? Sue him.

An image of Jonny’s form looming over him on a totally different setting almost makes him miss the fact that he’s asking for his number.

He spews the ten digits in a hurry, not wanting to give Jonny a reason to change his mind. 

Jonny’s deft fingers work quickly and Patrick’s mind drops right in the gutter until he hears his own phone ring in his pocket.

“Now you have mine too.”Jonny says, a hint of amusement in his tone as if he knows what Patrick was thinking.

He doesn’t know why that’s what makes him stand up hastily, determined to wipe that smugness off of Jonny.

He inches closer “It’s a date.” It’s more challenging than affirmative.

Jonny doesn’t back down. He leans closer “Best you’ll ever have.” He whispers right on Patrick’s ear, making him shiver.

And because he’s a filthy cheater he walks away before Patrick has the chance to retaliate.

For some reason, Patrick isn’t bothered much. Jonny may have won this round but Patrick will get him on the next one.

In the meantime, he can go be smug at Sharpy.

 

\-----------------------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can leave your prompts in the comments or on my [tumblr](http://oflovesandlikes.tumblr.com)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tumblr request for Jonny taking care of a sick Patrick that turned into a too long to even be considered a ficlet of Jonny and a de-aged, sick Patrick.
> 
> original prompt & post [(x)](http://oflovesandlikes.tumblr.com/post/159987505669)

 

“ _God, you are such a baby, Kaner_.”  The words still echo in Jonny’s ears, his voice tired and resigned, as if he has spoken them only a minute ago.

Logically he knows it’s not his fault. If it was that easy, they would have won all the Stanley Cups and Patrick would wear the Toews name next to his #88 and love Canada enough to retire there with him someday. ~~Or loved Jonny. Period~~.

On the other hand, getting stuck taking care of a not only de-aged but also sick Patrick can’t help but feel like karma to him.

After he gotten the C, he knew he had to ‘babysit’ the rookies, he even learned to like it especially after Saad, who was probably a better-behaved rookie than even Jonathan himself. Nowhere in his Captain duties did it mention raising regressed teammates though.

Then again, his team consists of a bunch of morons who thought it best to coo and coddle the toddler as if he was an actual kid. He was Kaner for fuck’s sake. The guy was a text book ‘Peter Pan syndrome’ case on his best day.

The fact that Jonny is in love with him despite all that, falls under the Stockholm Syndrome case. At least that’s what the internet has told him. What does Jonny know?

He knows even less about taking care of sick toddlers and his A’s are suffering from what his trusted internet search calls ‘ _hypengyophobi_ a’ which means they have a fear of responsibility. In Jonny’s -self-made- lexicon, the synonym is “ _a bunch of lazy assholes_ ”.

They do provide him with the name of their pediatrician, which is at least something, and that’s how Jonny finds himself in the waiting room with a bunch of suburban moms and a Patrick who fusses and tries to get out of his stroller.

Jonny can’t make eye-contact because he has put the stroller to the side so that it doesn’t block the corridor but he can still feel the violent shakes the poor thing gives under Patrick’s tantrum.

“Pipe it down there, K-“he catches himself quickly “Peeks.” He figures it’s the safer name choice; not like the moms pay them much attention.

Patrick, like always, challenges him even when he uses his captain voice so Jonny is not surprised when he immediately bumps the tray table with his fist.

Jonny lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Stop it.” He hisses quietly.

Instead of quieting down, Patrick starts crying and shoves harder at the tray.

Jonny stands from his seat, faces the stroller and crouching down he makes eye-contact with the little trouble maker. “Come on, now,” he softens his tone but his gaze is intense and scolding “don’t cry; you’re better than that.”

“His fever has probably gone up,” a female voice says somewhere behind him. “making him fussy.”

Patrick’s eyes are indeed glassy and his cheeks a deep red but Jonny is pretty sure Kaner somehow willed himself into it just to spite him. “Taking him off the stroller might help.” She suggests.

Jonny mumbles a “Yeah, thanks” because he has manners and it’s not the woman’s fault that Patrick’s mission in life is to ruin his.

Once he lifts the tray and unbuckles him Patrick quiets down, the little shit. Jonny glares harder at him while he’s still out of sight and no one can judge him for it, picks him up and puts him on his feet.

Patrick wobbles and grabs Jonny’s hand to steady himself.

“Can he walk, yet?” the same voice asks.

“Yeah, he’s 28, he’s just got a height problem.” Jonny deadpans without a moment of hesitation.

Patrick digs his tiny nails in Jonny’s skin and wails. Jonny would gloat to his asshole teammates for being right if Kaner wasn’t causing a scene.

“Oh, come on” he protests “it was a joke.” He mutters.

More than a few pair of eyes are silently judging him. Jonny takes a deep breath cursing the fact that no one seems to have a decent sense of humor except him.

He quickly picks Patrick up and the toddler buries his face in the crook of Jonny’s neck like he has done a hundred times before as an adult; with such ease and comfort as if it’s his rightful place.

Now that he thinks he can get away with it, Jonny gently caresses his soft curls and scrapes his fingers down the tiny back. And if Patrick gives him shit for it later he can tell him it was just for keeping up appearances.

 

 ______________________________

 

 

Acute otitis the pediatrician had said. “An ear infection, Kaner, come on.” He scolds, rolling his eyes before he can catch himself. He had to make a few dozen calls before he was utterly convinced that even though the real Patrick is indeed somewhere in there he doesn’t have full adult mental capacity.

Jonny wanted to argue that the real Kaner doesn’t either, but it’d probably result in that drum-shuttering wail and that was the last thing he needed.

He takes a deep calming breath and tries again. “Look, I even got you the cherry flavored one,” he says gesturing at the syrup bottle, “you like cherry, don’t you?”

Patrick neither moves nor speaks. Jonny knows he can. According to the doctor, other than the ear infection he is a perfectly healthy three-year-old so he could answer him with at least a yes or a no. At this point, Jonny would just take a nod.

He squints his eyes at Pat, “Are you giving me the silent treatment?”

Still nothing comes his way. Patrick just sits there, in the couch corner, tiny fists clenched on his lap.

Jonny sits close beside him and he swears if that pink shit stains his couch he’s gonna make Pat pay for a new one. Screw dry cleaning.

“Come on, Pat, please,” he’s got to the point where he’s not above begging “you heard the doctor. It will make you feel so much better and then we can do a lot of fun sh- stuff” apparently, he’s not above bribing either.

It, at least, earns him Patrick’s attention, those clear blue eyes searching his face. Jonny’s not sure for what. Probably trying to assess the honesty of his words.

Jonny gets lost at the colour for a few seconds. It’s a bit lighter than usual, almost like a soft grey. He kind of likes it but it also kind of bothers him because it’s Patrick’s, yet it isn’t. Not exactly.

He almost misses how Patrick inches his face just a tad closer but he definitely catches the moment he parts his lips silently.

Jonny tentatively gets the spoon closer to his mouth, not wanting to push further. Patrick almost buries his nose in the spoon and takes a sniff. Almost as suddenly, he grabs the spoon and shoves it in his mouth.

Jonny lets out a relieved sigh while Patrick keeps licking it even after the syrup is all gone. Jonny chuckles. “Come on,” he says trying to extract the spoon from Pat’s slightly chubby hand “you can have more later, I promise.”

Patrick, somewhat reluctantly, finally gives it up and proceeds to violently lick his lips. He keeps at it, with the addition of his fingers, even when Jonny gets back from the kitchen having put everything back in place.

It’s such a Kaner thing, too so Jonny can’t really explain the clench in his heart. He brushes it off and grabs a baby wipe to clean both Pat’s mouth and hands.

Patrick allows it without fuss, he even puckers his lips so Jonny can do a thorough job. “Such a good boy.” He coos, unintentionally.

Patrick’s eyes grow huge for a brief second and then blink close, head lolling at the side until it rests against Jonny’s arm.

It’s not that comfortable so Jonny pushes him off gently and proceeds to wrap it around Patrick’s shoulder, cocooning him, but not before grabbing a soft fleece blanket that uses to wrap the both under it.

Patrick burrows further into his side with a content sigh and Jonny can’t control the fond smile that appears on his face that turns rueful the moment his brain registers that he has been imagining something similar at least a billion times over the year. Obviously never quite like this.

Lazy off days with an _obviousl_ y a lot much older and bulkier Patrick, a heavy but welcoming presence on his side, occasionally tilting his head up seeking a soft peck on the lips if Jonny hadn’t beaten him to it.

This particular fantasy of him is never explicitly detailed; the house they’re in doesn’t matter except that it’s theirs, what the TV plays makes no difference as long as they’re together. It’s the feeling that he enjoys the most: soft and close, settled, together and content.

Patrick tugs at his sleeve and that gets Jonny out of his haze. He lowers his head to find tiny Kaner glaring at him then turning his eyes pointedly at the still shut TV screen.

Jonny chuckles and immediately grabs the remote, going through the channels. Most of them have nothing suitable for a kid and he can feel Patrick getting impatient. “Uh, Sport channel.” It’s more of a safe bet than a suggestion but Pat shakes his head vigorously and makes grabby hands at the remote.

For once Jonny gives it up without a fight. Patrick fumbles with the buttons for a bit but quickly gets the hang of it and channel surfs for a while until he settles on one with an approving hum.

Jonny quirks his eye brow. “Tangled, really?”

Patrick narrows his tiny eyes at him then raises a brow of his own. Jonny knows he’s beaten. He should have said ‘a cartoon?’. When you know the film name, you don’t have a lot of room to judge he supposes.

They watch in comfortable silence for a while until it’s broken by Patrick’s loud giggles right before the frying pan scene. Jonny files it as chirping material for later use but laughs along because tiny blue eyes look up at him expectantly.

 “Awesome, eh?” he says and Patrick beams at him.

Seeing him in a much-improved mood, Jonny hazards a question.  “Hey, you think you’d wanna talk to me at some point?”

Sure, adult Jonny knows his harsh words couldn’t have been the ones to turn Patrick into a baby (well, toddler) but maybe Kaner’s tiny little self holds him responsible on some level.

Patrick bites his bottom lip and shrugs, returning his attention to the screen.

“Are you mad at me?” Jonny finds the courage to ask directly.

It gets him no answer, just Pat slightly shying away from him and his heart sinks. Apologies go a long way though, especially heartfelt ones, so Jonny sincerely offers his.

“I’m sorry. You just –“ he catches himself because sharing some of the blame with toddler Patrick is unfair. “Sorry,” he repeats but Patrick blatantly ignores him.

Jonny sighs, defeated. He can try again later, perhaps. “How about I make some lunch,” he changes the subject “minestrone soup, I know you like that.”

Patrick at least shakes his head at that.

“Come on,” he coaxes, “at least some crackers. I don’t know if you even had breakfast today.”

Patrick seems to consider it and finally nods.

Jonny stands up hastily and rashes towards the kitchen. He stops mid-way there “Want some juice, too?”

Patrick’s nod is more eager this time and Jonny silently curses himself. Hydration is so important, he’s a hockey player, he knows that. How could he have been so stupid.

He vows to himself to do better from now on.

He returns to his seat, unwraps the cracker packet and offers it to Patrick.

Patrick on his end, stares at it intensely, then up at Jonny with eyes wide and then down at his lap. It takes a moment for Jonny to catch on.

“Go ahead,” he says, offering the crackers to Patrick once more “take it. It’s OK.”

Patrick is still hesitant. “It’s fine, Pat, really.” He assures “Don’t worry about the crumbs.”

Patrick snatches it, not giving him another chance to change him mind. He inhales the first two and that guilty feeling re-envelops Jonny.

Patrick wipes tiny crumbs from the corner of his mouth with the back of his one hand, while the other is digging in for the third one. Before that ends up in his mouth as well he pauses and glances once up at Jonny and then down at the cracker, then right back at him.

Maintaining eye contact, he closes the tiny fist holding the cracker, crumbling it in the process.

Jonny sees it like the challenge it is. Patrick dares him to break his promise. He doesn’t bite. He just shrugs.

Patrick shoves the crumbs in his mouth and with the same hand reaches for the juice, making a mess as he goes. It gets even worse when he squeezes the box in the middle and both he and the blanket get covered by the sticky liquid.

Jonny still doesn’t say a thing. He lets Patrick have the remaining of the juice and yet another cracker. This time, Patrick lifts his other palm and lets the few crumbs fall in there. Then he gets them back inside the packet.

Jonny ruffles his hair as soon as he swallows. “Come on, little piggy,” he teases “bath time.”

He must feel incredibly sticky and gross because Patrick jumps off the couch and runs towards the bathroom shedding his clothes on the way.

Jonny picks them up one by one on his way there. A stark-naked Patrick dutifully waits for him beside the tab. He doesn’t move until the water is high enough. He climbs in and sits down, splashing water with his hands until Jonny hands him a sponge and drips some shower gel on it.

Patrick holds it but does nothing other than search around. Jonny thinks perhaps he can’t do it himself so he tries to help but Patrick hides it on his other side.

“What are you waiting for?” Jonny asks.

“Quack!” he croaks, voice unused for so long.

“A duck?” Jonny asks incredulously, “who do you take me for? Seguin?”

At Tyler’s name, Pat’s eyes light up with mischievous glee and Jonny scoffs to fight the hurt.

He’s one second away from snapping a “then why don’t you go to him to give you one?’ but catches himself. They’d have to pry him over Jonny’s dead body because he’d never give him up willingly to anyone, in whatever shape or form he may be.

So he patiently cleans Patrick and suffers through the wet mess he makes and he’s not even mad that his bathroom floor now has more water than the tab because Patrick giggles happily and it’s the best sound Jonny has heard in a while.

He dries him off with his most soft and fluffy towel and dresses him in a worn off t-shirt before he tucks him in on his bed. He turns the TV on and hands him the remote.

When he comes back from cleaning up the mess, because the last thing he wants is for Patrick to prattle on the wet bathroom and break a bone, he finds Pat rubbing violently at his ear.

“Does it hurt?” he asks.

Patrick nods with a sniff. When Jonny takes a closer look, his eyes are misty and a little red. Instinctively, he lowers his head. When his cold lips make contact with Patrick’s forehead, it elicits a pleased hum. Jonny does find him to be a bit warmer but it’s still too soon for another round of medicine.

Jonny half picks him up, enough to put him under the covers and Patrick fusses a bit trying to get out until Jonny walks round and settles on the other end of the bed.

“Nap time,” Jonny explains, laying his head on the pillow and turning Patrick’s way.

Patrick lets out a soft yawn, nods and closes his eyelids without protest.

Jonny sits there watching him- for how long he can’t tell. When he thinks his breath has evened out he caresses his hair softly.

As if he had taken that as his que, Patrick inches closer just a tiny bit. His eyes are still shut but Jonny knows the motion was timid. He doesn’t know how, he just does.

He doesn’t pause to think about it, he just takes him in his arm and lets Patrick head rest on his chest.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers. “I know I can be such an assho- asshat,” he censors himself “sometimes. But just this once can you maybe do me a favour? Can you talk to me? Just a little? Just tell me that you’re mad if you want to. I just want to hear your voice.”

Patrick doesn’t speak but Jonny knows he isn’t asleep because he rubs his tiny nose on Jonny’s shirt.

Jonny lets out a heavy sigh. “Can you at least change back?”

After a beat, he can feel Patrick move his head, he’s just not sure if it’s a shake or a nod. “Can you?” he asks again and this time he can definitely feel the nod.

That at least unties a huge part of the knot Jonny carries inside. “Will you? Now?”

Patrick shakes his head and tries to pull away. Jonny doesn’t let him go far. “Why?” he asks “It’d be better for you. Especially now that you’re sick.”

At that Patrick pushes that much harder to free himself and Jonny rashes to clarify. “Not that I mind. – Taking care of you, I mean. Not that you’re sick. I mind that. I mean…” he takes a deep breath and tries to remember how to word “I just want to know you’re OK, ok? That’s all.”

Patrick looks up at him with hooded eyes. Jonny’s guessing he was probably trying to narrow them at him but his fever is most likely coming back and it’s the only thing he can master.

 “Ok,” he relents “ok, you win. I’m also a selfish jerk who wants to make himself feel a lot less guilty, alright? There. I said it.”

“You’re mean.” Patrick accuses and the unexpected reply catches Jonny off guard.

“Uh- no, I- yeah I can be I suppose.” He admits. “Is that why you don’t want to change back? Because I can try to be better and I am sorry-“

Patrick opens his mouth to answer but he seems to regret it and closes his lips shut.

Jonny tugs him closer again. “It’s OK. Let’s just nap. Whenever you’re ready, alright?”

Jonny is half-way asleep the next time Patrick speaks. “Will you make me go away when I’m big?” comes a lisp-y whisper.

That’s enough to wake Jonny up. “What?” he squawks.

He can feel Patrick slipping away and this time he lets him enough to face him. “Patrick, never, ok? I never want –“ he can’t do it. Not now. Not like this.

“Patrick, you have to listen to me carefully.” He stresses. “Are you listening?”

Patrick finally looks at him, reluctantly, yet he does and nods. Jonny gives a nod of his own. “Good, because this is important.” He takes a deep breath. “We need to talk.” He pauses because the internet tells him that’s never good. “I _\- I_ need to tell you a lot of things but you’re 3 now and it’s creepy and wrong and all kinds of weird, ok? So, I’ll wait. Again.” He can’t help but add because he feels like he has been waiting for Patrick half his life “But I will never, ever send you away, ok? The next time you leave is because you chose it, alright?”

Patrick just stares at him open-mouthed. Jonny rubs at his forehead with sweaty palms. “Do you even get what I’m saying?” He says when his frustration takes over him.

Patrick glares at him. “’M not stupid.”

That makes Jonny smile. “I know.”

Patrick eyes him warily. “Even when I’m big?” he questions.

Jonny doesn’t hesitate. “Even then.”

Little blue eyes assess him. “OK.” Patrick finally decides and then proceeds to tuck Jonny down to resume their previous comfortable position.

“Jonny?” Patrick says, from inside Jonny’s arms.

“Hmm”

“’M not stupid,” he repeats “ _you_ are.”

Jonny huffs a laugh and leaves a quick kiss on the top of Patrick’s head. “I know, Pat.” He agrees. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any fic requests you can leave them in the comments below or on my [tumblr](http://oflovesandlikes.tumblr.com)


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